


Hair of the Dog [Fic & Podfic]

by Jaden56, RsCreighton



Series: Hangover Series [2]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Audio Format: MP3, Audio Format: Streaming, Bad Puns, F/M, Humor, Oral Sex, Party Favor, Podfic, Podfic Length: 45-60 Minutes, Spanking, Vaginal Sex, bros being bros
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-27
Updated: 2017-08-27
Packaged: 2018-12-15 05:19:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11799237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jaden56/pseuds/Jaden56, https://archiveofourown.org/users/RsCreighton/pseuds/RsCreighton
Summary: Direct follow up to "Hangover." Hawke deals with the fact that she slept with Varric, and everyone pretty much knows.





	Hair of the Dog [Fic & Podfic]

**Author's Note:**

> Author Notes: Thanks, as always, goes to my darling Rose! These stories wouldn’t exist without her sneaking them into my brain and I credit (blame) her for coming up with the ‘the one-eyed trouser snake’ line. Beware! Thar be puns and gratuitous smut ahead! XD
> 
> Readers Notes: I will take this blame. MWAH! <3

**Title:** Hair of the Dog  
**Series:** The Hangover Series  
**Length:**   55:34  
**Format:**   MP3 & Streaming

[ Mobile Streaming ](http://rscreighton.parakaproductions.com/Podfic/201708/Podtogether/%5bDA2%5d%20Hair%20of%20the%20Dog.mp3)

[**Download File**](http://rscreighton.parakaproductions.com/Podfic/201708/Podtogether/%5bDA2%5d%20Hair%20of%20the%20Dog.mp3)  
_(Right-Click, Save. THANK YOU, PARAKA! <3)_

 

Hawke didn't know why she thought she'd be able to slip anything by Isabela. A part of her had to wonder if the girl lurking way down deep inside of her wanted someone to gossip to, someone who would want all the filthy, lurid details and tease her for involving feelings in what should have been a simple hook up. She could probably talk to Bethany but Hawke's insides shriveled up at the thought of her baby sister as a sexual person. Bethany was absolutely never going to find out about Hawke's more graphic encounters with the opposite (or same - she wasn't picky) sex if she could help it.

"So you and Varric," Isabela began, voice laced with sex and molasses as she leaned against the wall in the hallway separating her room and Varric's. She looked Hawke up and down as Hawke tried - and failed - to sneak out of Varric's room without detection.

Hawke immediately turned around and started walking in the opposite direction.

"Oh, no you don't. You're not getting out of it that easily, sweet thing. Details. Now."

Isabela caught up to her and slung an arm around Hawke's shoulders, all but dragging her down the stairs and out of the Hanged Man. Hawke didn't know where Isabela was planning on taking her, but as long as it wasn't The Blooming Rose or Gamlen's Hawke didn't much care. Hawke managed to resist saying much of anything until they turned a corner and were greeted by the sight of a dozen or so elves milling around an enormous tree.

"The Alienage?" she asked raising an eyebrow at Isabela.

"I think it's only fair if we expand Merrill's education while you're recounting the exact positions Varric put you in to make you howl like that. I don't think I've ever been so pleased to be kept up all night before. I'm a little jealous, actually. You were going at it for _hours_ \--"

"Oh, look. Merrill!" Hawke interrupted, waving frantically at the elf in question. Merrill waved back, a little bemused at the enthusiastic greeting, but she appeared pleased to see them at any rate. She was clutching a broom like it was a staff but Hawke was glad Merrill at least had the sense not to wield a staff in public when Meredith and her templars were already cracking down on mages.

"Hello, Hawke!" Merrill called. "Isabela! Lovely weather we've been having, don't you think?"

"The loveliest," Isabela said with a grin that was all teeth, "and about to get a lot brighter. Let's go inside. Hawke has some exciting news she'd like to share."

"Oh, she does, does she?" Hawke said dryly. She yelped when Isabela pinched her, but she allowed herself to be dragged inside Merrill's apartment.

"I could use some good news," Merrill said, sounding a little melancholy before she caught herself and nearly tripped over her broom in her haste to assuage them. "Not that I'm not happy to see you! Because I am! Oh…I never say the right thing."

"Take a breath, kitten. Want to try that again?"

"Right. Please make yourselves at home. Would you like some tea?"

"I'll pass." Isabela shoved some of the clutter on Merrill's desk aside and propped herself on the edge while Hawke slumped onto a chair.

"I'd love a cup," Hawke said with a yawn that cracked her jaw. She and Varric sort of missed the whole sleeping part of sleeping together, unless passing out from exhaustion for a couple hours counted.

"Uh..." Merrill looked embarrassed, her fingers dancing like two flighty pigeons in the air. "That is, I would offer you tea because Varric tells me it's the polite thing to do when you have guests, but I don't actually...have any tea? I'm sorry! I can make you hot water?"

"Whatever, Merrill," Hawke said, rubbing her temples before Isabela nudged her with an elbow. Oh. Right. She was supposed to encourage Merrill's attempts at becoming housebroken. "I mean, sure. That sounds...great."

Merrill looked relieved and disappeared into the adjacent room serving as her kitchen, dining area, closet, and bedroom in one. Hawke draped her arm across Isabela's bare thighs and dropped her head against her forearm. Isabela scrunched Hawke's hair between her hands before settling into petting her like a cat. Hawke couldn't help but remember how she'd been in a similar position with Varric not too long ago, but - unlike Varric - Hawke had no inclination to jump Isabela. They'd messed around a few times in the past, but it was only ever casual with no strings attached.

This thing with Varric made Hawke feel awkwardly prepubescent all over again. She didn't expect flowers and proclamations of undying love and devotion or whatever, but she felt so jittery that she was certain someone only need glance at her to know Varric had left his mark beneath her skin. She'd been in such a hurry to leave that morning she'd forgotten her scarf, so as far as she knew he might have left his mark in some highly visible places as well.

Merrill returned and Hawke sat up to accept the mug of hot water more to keep her hands warm than risk drinking anything from the Alienage that wasn't distilled or fermented first. Merrill hugged her own chipped mug and remained standing next to the desk. That creepy mirror of hers outlined her slim figure in the background and Hawke did her best not to look at it. Unfortunately, that meant looking at Merrill and Isabela's eagerly expectant faces instead as they waited for her to spill her guts.

"I suppose everyone is going to find out sooner or later," Hawke muttered to herself. "Well, here goes nothing."

Isabela gave her a hungry, gleeful expression while Merrill looked politely attentive. Isabela nudged her again when Hawke took too long and nearly spilled scalding water all over her lap.

"Varric and I are...er..." Hawke began and then faltered. They were what? A couple? Hooking up occasionally? Pretending last night had never happened? She wished they had discussed their relationship on more technical terms before she all but ran out of his room like her ass had caught fire but Hawke wasn't good at serious talks. She and Varric got along so well because they could crack jokes even in the middle of a bloodbath.

"We had sex," Hawke finished lamely. She set her mug down on the desk and leaned back in her chair, attempting casual for all she was worth, but she knew her red cheeks gave her away when Merrill gasped and Isabela punched the air with a shout of victory.

"That is wonderful news, Hawke!" Merrill gushed. "I am so happy for you two!"

"Yeah yeah," Hawke said waving down Merrill's enthusiastic congratulations. "It's still pretty new so don't... Let's keep it between us for now, okay?"

"You won't hear a peep from me, I swear!" Merrill’s green eyes were as round as saucers as she pinched her lips shut with her thumb and first two fingers.

"Oh, I am telling _everyone_ ," Isabela said. "Aveline owes me five sovereigns now."

"You bet on me and Varric fucking?" Hawke said trying to be affronted and failing. It wasn't as if she didn't have her own bet going on when Isabela and Fenris would hook up anyway. "I thought we were friends."

"We are friends, sweet thing. Just not as close as you and Varric, apparently." Isabela then started singing, "Hawke and Varric sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G!" until Hawke made a sound of disgust and kicked at her.

"They were in a tree?" Merrill asked completely missing the point of Isabela's taunting. "I thought Varric was afraid of heights?"

"He must have gotten over his fear especially if he's climbing this one now," Isabela smirked and jabbed her thumb in Hawke's direction. "I thought he was a one-crossbow kind of dwarf?"

"Yeah, I thought so too." Hawke frowned. "Even the human thing didn't seem to put him off that much."

"Wow, it must be love then." Isabela looked faintly horrified by the concept. "You'll be inviting all of us to the wedding, of course."

"I love weddings!" Merrill's earlier reservations were all but forgotten as she set down her mug and grabbed both of Hawke's hands, all but dancing in place. "Oh, you'll make such a lovely bride, Hawke!"

"Whoa! Nobody's marrying anyone," Hawke said quickly, snatching her hands away from Merrill's. "It was one night. I don't know if it'll even happen again."

"It'll happen again," Isabela said with absolute certainty. Hawke wished she had Isabela's confidence. "Any blind person could see the dwarf is head over heels for you. He'd be an idiot not to snatch you up before someone else does."

“We’ll see about that. I’m not getting my hopes up. _Anyway_ ,” Hawke stressed, taking a sip out of her mug before she could remember herself. She grimaced and set the mug back down when Isabela snickered at her. “How’s the restoration on your mirror going, Merrill?”

Hawke was desperate to change the subject and, alas, she succeeded all too well. After spending what felt like half the day listening to Merrill’s ramblings about the Eluvian she and Isabela managed to make their escape when Merrill went to the kitchen to refresh their hot water. They parted ways at the Hanged Man when Hawke continued on to Gamlen’s.

Hawke couldn't play cool and calm to save her life and of course her mother and Bethany sensed something was different and latched on with the tenacity of a mabari. Or at least any mabari that wasn’t Snowflake, who only lifted his head and gave her a dismissive _whoof_ before returning to his nap. Leandra and Bethany wanted to know where she'd been all night and half the day but Hawke snarled without answering as she slammed their shared bedroom door behind her and paced the five steps it took to get from one side of the room to the other.

She was freaking out but she didn't know _why_ she was freaking out.

She'd had relationships before but nothing had ever meant as much as her friendship with Varric did. He knew her from the inside out - especially after last night - and predicted her like he was forecasting the damned weather. Varric was the most loyal and dependable person she'd ever known. If he decided last night was a mistake after all Hawke was certain he'd find a way to break things off without breaking _them_ and probably make her think it was her own idea. Hawke didn’t think last night had been a mistake. She wanted to see him again. She wanted to hide in her room and never come out. She wanted to change her name and run as far from Kirkwall as possible, but she’d probably break down and send him letters from a ‘secret admirer’. He’d know right away they were from her and come track her down.

What she really needed was to hit something until she exhausted herself to the point where she couldn’t think anymore.

Leandra pounced when Hawke eventually emerged from the room, driven by hunger and the call of nature. Hawke blocked her out as much as she was able as she stuffed bread that thankfully hadn’t started molding yet into her mouth to avoid answering her mother’s probing questions while Snowflake whined for scraps and got underfoot. Leandra might not have known exactly what or who had Hawke so worked up but she seemed insistent Hawke put on a dress or make a little more effort with her appearance before heading back out to the Hanged Man that evening.

"At least let me do something with your hair, Marian," Bethany begged, wielding a hairbrush and a couple plain hair clips. They had sold their nicer clips and most of their jewelry ages ago. She and Leandra had obviously been plotting together to gang up on Hawke.

“Sorry, gotta run!” Hawke managed to bolt out of the door with Snowflake in tow before either she or her dog ended up covered in lace and bows.

Snowflake took off and went bounding after a rat once they were clear of the house but Hawke picked up Merrill along the way, so she wasn't lacking for company for long. She soon regretted not leaving Merrill at home and arriving at the Hanged Man by herself when Merrill twined her arm around Hawke's and started bombarding her with questions.

Or rather statements in the guise of questions.

"Are you excited to see him, Hawke? What am I saying, of course you are! You haven't spoken to him since this morning? I do hope he's not having second thoughts. You don't think he's having second thoughts, do you? Are you? You do make an adorable couple. Do you think he'll want to kiss you in front of everyone?"

"Merrill."

"Yes, Hawke?"

" _Shut up_ ," Hawke growled through her teeth.

She was starting to sweat beneath her armor despite the chill outside and wondered if she wouldn't have been better off in something more breathable, like a dress. But Varric and Isabela would never let her live it down if Hawke showed up looking suddenly respectable, of all things. And, dammit. Hawke wasn't going to change for anyone. Varric knew darn well what he was getting into with Hawke but a part of her wondered if Merrill was right, if he was maybe having second thoughts. Maker knew she was having second, third, and fourth ones herself.

Merrill didn't linger at the door to the Hanged Man oblivious to Hawke's internal conflict as she hustled them both inside out of the cold. Hawke would never call the Hanged Man warm or inviting, but she felt more at home there than she ever had at Gamlen's and couldn't help but relax a smidgen. Varric waved them over from their usual table but didn't get out of his seat or make a fuss when he spotted them. He was obviously in the middle of a story or anecdote as he regaled Fenris and Isabela with his tall tales. Merrill gave her arm a squeeze and smiled as she gently pushed Hawke in the direction of her usual seat at Varric's right hand.

All of Hawke’s anxiety fell away when he glanced up without pausing in his story and winked at her. He looked away to refute something Isabela had chimed in with but held out a seemingly innocuous hand in Hawke's direction like one of his expressive gesticulations had frozen mid-way. Before she could overthink it, Hawke slipped her hand into his and leaned down to brush a kiss against his cheek.

"Hello, dear," she murmured loud enough for the entire table to hear.

Varric smirked and kept their intertwined fingers on top of the table between them after Hawke took her seat. Isabela hid her grin behind her tankard and Merrill all but swooned. Fenris appeared completely oblivious or uninterested. Hawke felt as if the wall of ice that had built itself up in her chest when she wasn't looking melted as she basked in the familiar atmosphere and let Varric's easy baritone become background noise. She checked out mentally for a while but snapped to when Isabela kicked her under the table. Hawke realized she'd been staring at Varric's mouth or his hands or his chest in all of its furry, mouth-watering display. Hawke was proud of herself for not jumping him right there or "accidentally" dropping a fork beneath the table and disappearing for a suspicious amount of time while she retrieved it.

"Hawke," Aveline greeted when she joined them later, clearly fresh off patrol duty. "Good to see you back. I hope that virus cleared up?"

"Virus?" Hawke asked before remembering a stomach bug had been her excuse when she'd avoided coming to the Hanged Man after she and Varric had their... Hawke wouldn't call throwing herself at him and Varric rebuffing her a falling out, exactly, but she'd definitely needed time to lick her wounds. An illness seemed like a viable enough reason to avoid unwanted questioning at the time.

"Oh, yes. It was disgusting. In fact, I would advise against visiting Darktown or the sewers for at least a few months. There weren't enough buckets in Kirkwall to contain everything coming out of--"

"Who's making the first bet?" Varric interrupted. He gave her hand a warning squeeze and pulled out his deck of cards before Hawke could go into a graphic recounting of exactly how terrible this illusionary virus was.

They started up a round of Wicked Grace after Norah dropped dinner and drink refills off at their table once they were joined by Aveline, completing their usual sextuplet. Hawke still hadn't managed to wheedle Sebastian into coming. He likely didn’t want to chance succumbing to temptation or whatever. Hawke kinda sorta hadn't mentioned their regular get-togethers to Bethany. She knew her sister was dying to get out of Gamlen's house and _do_ something, but Hawke selfishly wanted her safe at home rather than out risking capture from templars. Hawke knew it was only in her head but she felt by simply having magic Bethany walked around with a brand on her forehead stating to the entire world she was a mage. Hawke would do everything in her power to keep that brand from becoming reality.

Hawke surprised herself by nursing a single tankard of ale the entire night. Usually, she'd be at least tipsy by the third round of cards but despite her unchanging losing streak, she was actually having a good time watching the others get increasingly louder and sloppier. She maybe never realized just how much she flirted with Varric when their usual back and forth banter felt more loaded than normal, brimming with innuendo that both of them would possibly put to action at the end of the night.

Hawke stopped trying to win at Wicked Grace and focused instead on being a distraction instead. She had a shit hand anyway but slouched with an air of insouciance as she slung an arm across the back of her chair and relaxed into a loose-limbed sprawl. Her knee knocked against Varric's and she left it there while she watched Aveline fold, Fenris match the bet, and Isabela raise the stakes before it was Varric's turn again. She faked a yawn and stretch, but Varric caught the tankard of ale Hawke accidentally bumped before it could spill into his lap.

“Oops,” she grinned.

“You’re not getting out of this round, Hawke. I raise.”

Hawke bit back a groan as she added the last of her coin to the rather substantial pile in the middle of the table. She suspected he was bluffing out his ass but didn’t have enough proof to call him out on it. She wasn’t going to win by playing by the rules. She was entirely without shame as she dropped her hand to Varric’s knee a few minutes later and slowly began to walk her fingers up his thigh.

“Game not interesting enough for you, Hawke?” Varric said without giving anything away.

“I wouldn’t say that. In fact, I think it’s about to heat up,” she said innocently. She was fooling no one, of course – especially Isabela who was looking between her and Varric like they were the most entertaining thing she’d seen in ages. Varric’s thigh flexed beneath her palm and Hawke squeezed the muscle approvingly. She grazed the back of her knuckles along the front of his trousers and had to remind herself not to stare at him while she tried to lure out any reaction from him whatsoever. He was like a damned statue – expressionless, except for his usual easy grin - and just as hard.

“Your turn, dwarf,” Fenris grumbled, nursing a bottle of wine in one hand and his cards in the other.

Perhaps Varric wasn’t quite as unaffected as he seemed. Varric drew another card, flipping over the Angel of Death which meant they all had to reveal their hands – for better or worse. Hawke already knew she’d lost but she would gladly settle for a consolation prize. Merrill actually had a somewhat decent hand but likely not good enough to win. Aveline and Fenris were out. Isabela folded with a sound of disgust, eyeing the gold necklace she’d wagered with obvious regret. Then it was down to Varric and Hawke, and Varric wasn’t budging.

"I'll show you mine if you show me yours," Hawke purred, scraping her thumb along the seam of Varric's trousers.

“Ladies first,” Varric insisted, reaching down to catch Hawke’s hand when she started to undo his laces. “I insist.”

Hawke gave up on subtlety and leaned toward him instead of trying to get her hand back. “What say we call it a draw and play a different sort of game?”

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Isabela lean over and tap the table in front of Aveline to get her attention. She jerked her thumb in Varric and Hawke's direction before making the universal "gimme" sign. Aveline handed over the rest of her diminished pile of coins with a sigh. Hawke ignored them and watched Varric’s eyes track her tongue when she licked her lips and saw the lovely brown of his irises disappear beneath the widening of his pupils. They were close enough to kiss and Hawke let her cards fall to the table, feeling her breath hitch as she wondered if they were actually going to cross the line from their usual flirting to outright making out in front of everyone. She could taste the ale and hints of their dinner on his breath and she was starting to feel hungry for seconds when he leaned in those last few inches separating them.

"Dealer wins," Varric breathed against her lips with an air of smug superiority as he laid down his cards – all serpents and two angels – and swept the pot into his already substantial pile, officially taking Hawke for everything she had.

"Someone's sleeping on the couch tonight," Isabela mock-whispered when Hawke jerked away from him with a swear and glowered at Varric when he shrugged at her and smirked.

"As long as they stay out of any trees," Merrill said sternly. "Someone could fall or get a splinter."

"I think I'm still picking splinters out of my ass after last night," Hawke grumbled.

Isabela choked on her drink and laughed. Aveline looked confused and mildly disturbed but wisely didn't ask.

"I'm out." Hawke took her hand off Varric's thigh to cross her arms over her chest and _not_ pout. She'd taken a couple solo jobs over the past couple weeks but most of her earnings went toward keeping food on the table and a roof over her family's heads - as long as Gamlen didn't wager his shack in any more stupid bets. The sad state of her coin purse was another reason she hadn't been too upset about missing Wicked Grace nights.

Drinking and losing got expensive especially at the rate she did both.

"I'd be happy to spot you, Hawke," Varric said guilelessly, stacking his winnings into neat columns.

"Aw, don't quit yet, sweet thing. I'm sure there's _something_ you can bet."

"We are not playing strip Wicked Grace, Isabela."

"Is that the time?" Aveline exclaimed with fake surprise as she stood. "I have patrol first thing in the morning so I should be heading back to the barracks. Hawke."

"Aveline."

"Better luck next time. And…congratulations,” she added awkwardly, eyes darting between Hawke and Varric. “Everyone else, good night."

Hawke pretended not to know what Aveline was talking about and turned to say farewell when Fenris also took his leave - and the remaining bottle of wine Hawke hadn't touched. Merrill was starting to slump in her chair, each blink getting progressively longer until Isabela hooked an arm around her shoulders and announced she'd be walking Merrill home. Hawke was glad Isabela had volunteered because she wasn't quite ready to leave just yet.

All of the nervousness and uncertainty Hawke felt earlier came flooding back as soon as she and Varric were the only ones left sitting at the table, surrounded by the scraps of dinner and half-empty mugs. Hawke tapped her fingers against the tabletop while Varric gathered the cards. Hawke could have sworn she saw him shake a few out of his sleeve, the shameless cheat, but she didn’t have the heart to call him out on it. She cleared her suddenly dry throat and drained the rest of her drink, wincing because the dragon piss Corff served certainly didn't taste any better flat and warm.

She didn't know if she should stay or leave and Varric wasn't throwing her a fucking bone indicating either way. He'd held her hand and flirted all night, but Hawke didn't assume it meant he wanted to take her to bed again. She wasn't the best at picking up on subtle cues. More often than not she needed to be hit over the head with a blunt object for something to sink in.

"It's getting late," Hawke said when she couldn't stand sitting there waiting any longer. Even the noise of the tavern around them couldn't keep the extended silence between them from becoming unbearable. "I should probably..."

Hawke trailed off waiting for Varric to cut in, offer her another drink or take her back to his room, or _anything_ , but he didn't even look at her when he said, "Mmhm."

When he didn't follow up with anything else, Hawke had to restrain the urge to shout and flip over the whole damned table. She nearly stormed off right then, except she caught the corner of Varric's mouth twitching upward in a suppressed grin and punched him in the shoulder instead.

"You're an ass." Hawke tried to be angry but failed to hide her own relieved grin.

"I know you're emotionally constipated and all, Hawke, but sometimes a dwarf just wants to be wooed."

"Oh, I'll woo you all right."

Hawke growled and grabbed a fistful of Varric's collar as she all but hauled him over the table and kissed him hard enough to taste the bruises blooming in her mouth. The carefully stacked deck and pile of coins went scattering everywhere but neither of them hardly noticed when Varric got both hands in her hair and kissed her like he'd been holding himself back all night.

"My room?" Varric gasped between kisses, tipping his head back with a groan as Hawke bit a trail down his throat and started making inroads on his belt.

"Table?" she countered. She gave up on Varric's belt and went back to the partially-undone laces to his pants instead. She felt the rasp of his stubble and the buzz of his laughter against her lips and wanted him so badly that she actually considered going to her knees right there.

"I know we can at least make it to the hallway," Varric teased. "I don't know about you, but I don't think any of the guys around here have earned a free show."

Despite his protests, he didn't stop Hawke from kissing her way down his chest. He had to know what the obscene cut of his tunics did to her. She couldn't be held accountable for her actions with all those muscles and chest hair on blatant display.

"I must not be doing a good enough job if you're talking this much," Hawke said when she finally came up for air before biting Varric's nipple through his shirt. He hissed, clutching her hair hard enough to sting. It was everything Hawke could do not to moan.

"Sweetheart, talking's the only thing that's keeping the table from looking like a more and more likely prospect by the second."

"Then let's get out of here."

Hawke almost didn't recognize her own voice, husky and edged with tension, but Varric clearly knew an order when he heard one. He took her hand, leaving the cards and the coins behind, as he all but dragged her up to the second level sleeping quarters.

"Wait," Hawke said when they were halfway up the stairs.

Varric turned around with an expression that would precede a serious amount of bitching - if Hawke knew her dwarf, and she did. She reached out to place a placating hand on Varric's chest but forgot what she was going to say when she realized they were actually standing eye-to-eye with him two steps above her.

"What?" Varric said with all the grouchiness that only endeared him to her more. She could only grin stupidly at him. He narrowed his eyes suspiciously and tapped a finger against his bicep when he let go of her hand to cross his arms over his chest. "Hawke..."

"Just..." she started and then darted in to kiss him without actually finishing her sentence. Leandra had tried to instill manners into all of her children but Hawke was afraid the lesson had been entirely lost on her eldest. "Stay here."

Hawke patted his chest and darted back down the stairs while he shook his head at her in bemusement. They'd only turned their backs for a second but there were already a few less-scrupulous types edging toward their abandoned table. Hawke snarled with a hand on the hilt of her dagger, and the riff-raff scattered faster than she could say "boo!" Hawke loosened the drawstring of the leather purse on her hip and shoveled all the cards and coins into the bag before cinching it tightly.

"Finders keepers," Hawke said in response to Varric's raised eyebrows when she returned with a smug grin on her face. "Besides, I plan on making you earn this back."

"You're extorting me for my own money," Varric accused, but Hawke knew he was impressed.

"What's yours is mine, lover."

"And I assume what's yours is also yours, too?"

"Got it in one. See, I knew I liked you for a reason." Hawke looped her arm in Varric's and pressed a kiss to his cheek as they walked up the stairs at a far more sedate pace than earlier.

"I should have known. Money will always be your first love."

"Hey, I don't begrudge you Bianca. A girl likes to know where she stands in the grand scheme of things."

"And where do I stand, exactly?" They reached his door, but he paused to look at her, waiting for an answer.

"Well..." Hawke reached out to stroke a knuckle down his cheek as she pretended to consider. "Mostly, I see you kneeling. Or on your back. Or--"

Varric laid a finger across her lips, laughing. "I think I see where you're going with this. I'm more than happy to oblige, though I gotta warn you. I'm not as young as I use to be."

"I'll go easy on you, old man."

"Now we both know that's a lie." They laughed as Hawke hustled them into the room and locked the door behind them.

Instead of falling immediately into bed like Hawke half-expected they would Varric took his time removing her armor and clothing piece by piece. He hissed in sympathy when he revealed the bruises on her hip and back which were only just coming into their glorious indigo and purple stages. Hawke noticed he fixed the table they had broken the previous night. She wasn't kidding about the splinters and was determined they'd actually make it to a bed and _stay in it_. Her shoulder was a little sore but the wound was healing nicely and she hadn't needed to reapply bandages. Varric sat her down on the edge of the bed and checked her over anyway. His fussing was familiar, though usually Hawke was a lot more bloody or concussed when he gave her such a thorough inspection.

He placed tender kisses over the virulent love bites trailing down her neck to her breasts, stopping at the edge of her breastband. Perhaps Hawke should have worn the dress after all...with nothing underneath. But she was cutthroat enough to save it for a special occasion or to use as leverage when Varric was least expecting. Hawke didn't realize Varric had slipped her breastband off until the air peaked her bare nipples.

She glanced down at her breasts, surprised. "Impressive."

"Eh. I've seen bigger."

"Varric Tethras!"

Unlike the men earlier, Varric was either too brave or too foolhardy to be scared off by Hawke's growl which more than one person had attributed to her Ferelden heritage. She decided it was the latter when he only laughed but then he took one of her nipples in his mouth and Hawke...

Well, Hawke was easy. She could admit as much.

“Not so fast, handsome.”

Hawke caught Varric before he went to his knees. She was more than happy to let him continue on his chosen path but she felt it far past the time to return the favor since he'd been more than generous with his mouth last night. She tugged him onto the bed and slipped off to kneel on the floor in front of him in one smooth motion. She made quick work of his laces and didn’t bother to remove any of his clothing as she fished in his pants and pulled out her prize. Hawke didn't feel one way or the other about giving blowjobs, usually, but the sight of Varric's cock when it bobbed free from his smalls made her mouth water. His cock was built like the rest of him - short and thick - but she had plenty to wrap her hand around.

"It's not gonna bite," Varric said with a strained chuckle when Hawke ghosted her fingertips along the underside of his shaft.

"No, but it might spit." Hawke pressed a kiss to the head and give him a shark-like grin that turned into a laugh when Varric gave her teeth a wary glance.

"You _have_ done this before, right?"

"What? Choked down a sausage? Played the skin flute? Charmed the one-eyed trouser snake?" Hawke had been around Isabela long enough to pick up more than a few colorful euphemisms.

"Yeah, something like that. Just...careful with the teeth?"

"Your wish is my command, Master Tethras."

"Somehow I think I'm gonna regret letting this genie out of its bottle..."

"Talking. Too much happening."

"I couldn't agree more. Ready when you are, beautiful."

Hawke had been essentially talking to the top of his cock. She felt him shiver every time her breath brushed against his skin. She pressed another kiss to the head, keeping her eyes locked on his as she gave him a playful nibble that made him tense and suck down air. She'd love to tease him for hours but she was desperate to have this part of him inside her again and didn't have the patience or self-discipline to make either of them wait. She sucked a line of kisses down his length swirling patterns against his skin with her tongue until she reached his furry balls and took one into her mouth. She stroked him off slowly with her hand while she toyed with the seam of his sac with her tongue, soaking him with spit.

Hawke was a messy and noisy eater, humming her enjoyment and closing her eyes as she focused less on finesse and more on breaking Varric's careful control. She released his balls with a _pop_ and licked her way back up to the tip. She checked in on Varric, who was incongruously quiet considering how much he liked to talk and was gratified to see he was open-mouthed and panting, head tipped back and skin red from his chest up.

"Still with me, love?" she purred, rubbing her cheek against the silk and steel length of him held loosely in her hand.

Varric blinked blearily as he sought her out with his eyes, expression dazed and distant. "Fuck, Hawke," he said in a voice that was all gravel, which Hawke took as an affirmative.

She swiped at a bead of precome with her tongue before closing her lips around the head of his cock and humming a questioning "hmm?" She was going to get him howling one way or another if only so Isabela would have someone else to tease for keeping her up all night. He hissed and arched his back, pushing himself into her throat. She gagged a little at the unexpected pressure and he backed off at once, gasping an apology.

"Sorry, Hawke. _Fuck_ , your mouth…."

"That's the plan. Just give me a minute. It's been a while since I've done this."

She and Varric might be competitive but they didn't keep an actual running tab between them that wasn’t just for play. Besides, Hawke had a purse full of Varric's coin that she had no intention of returning. She could afford to be lenient. Hawke released his cock and grabbed a firm hold of Varric's hips to keep him anchored as she curled her lips over her teeth and started to sink down on him an inch at a time. She added suction each time she came up before bobbing back down even further. She took her time, warming up her throat and getting her jaw used to the stretch. She hummed at the musky, salty taste of him and breathed in his scent that her body was already starting to react to – namely the dampness between her legs. Varric seemed to enjoy the vibrations of her humming and Hawke’s suspicion was proven correct when his hips bucked again before Hawke slammed her forearm down across them and leaned her weight into him.

She had a wiry build but she was fairly certain she could come close to matching him for strength. She certainly wouldn't be hauling him over her shoulder to carry home as spoils anytime soon but she could keep him steady while her throat opened up to take him inside. Her eyes watered reflexively and she had to pull off a few times to gasp for air but soon enough she found her rhythm.

She let her free hand drift between Varric's legs to tickle his balls before grasping them with a few firm tugs. Varric's thighs tensed so hard they felt like granite and he barely managed to choke out a warning before he shot his seed down her throat. Hawke swallowed everything down that she could but coughed when she came up for air. The Blooming Rose wouldn't be hiring her for her technique anytime soon but, in true Hawke fashion, she got the job done.

Varric wheezed out a sigh as his body slumped into the bed. Hawke poked him in the thigh and said teasingly, "Cat got your tongue?”

"First it's 'you talk too much, Varric' and then I'm not talking enough. You're never satisfied, Hawke."

"A girl likes to know when she's doing a good job," she shrugged, grinning as she slithered up Varric's body and tucked herself against his side. She rested her hand against his belly beneath his tunic, feeling it heave as he fought to regulate his breath.

"Yeah, you did good. Gold stars all around."

"I don't think that sounds very sincere," Hawke tutted, lightly scratching his stomach.

"Honey, I promise I’ll make it up to you. Just give me a few..." He interrupted himself with a yawn but yelped when Hawke jabbed him viciously in the ribs.

"Don't fall asleep on me now, Varric. You owe me and I intend to collect."

"I wouldn't dream of it." He yawned again and broke off to chuckle when Hawke gave him the _eye_. "Why don't you come up here? I'm too tired to move just yet."

"Come up...?"

"Do I need to say it another way? I want to explore the Deep Roads. Don the beard. Speak in tongues - should I go on? - worship at Andraste's altar..."

"Okay, stop stop stop," Hawke begged, laughing hard enough to give herself hiccups. Obviously, Isabela had gotten to him as well.

Despite all her bravado, she hadn't actually had sex with many people. There’d been a guy in Lothering and she messed around with one or two fellow soldiers in King Cailan’s army. Since coming to Kirkwall, she'd only slept with Isabela a handful of times and tried out a few of the tamer prospects at The Blooming Rose before her heart (and the more southern bits of her anatomy) had decided one certain shameless rogue of an archer was the only one for her.

"Don the beard, huh?" Hawke said.

"Less talking, more action, Hawke. I can't have people thinking I'm a cad in bed."

"I don't mind if I do." She stripped out of her smalls and climbed over him to sit on his chest. "Slap my ass or something if you can't breathe--ouch! Varric!"

"What? You take my breath away."

"Smartass."

"Nice ass," he rumbled, rubbing his hand over the faint imprint of his palm against her pale skin.

Hawke preened a little for show but grunted when Varric used the hand on her ass to push her forward. Hawke braced herself against the wall to keep from breaking Varric's nose - not that anyone would notice since it was already ruggedly crooked - but she didn't actually want to suffocate him. Strangle him sometimes, yes, but accidentally asphyxiating him while he was giving her head would be difficult to explain. Isabela would never let her live it down.

He guided her hips into position, and Hawke tried not to tense with anticipation. She trembled and went weak-limbed instead at the first touch of his mouth on her inner thigh. She let out a gust of air and gripped the headboard, holding on for dear life as Varric licked and sucked that single spot until Hawke worked her hips helplessly, certain she'd have a bruise there for weeks. The scrape of his stubble was maddening when combined with the silk of his lips and tongue. She strained in his grasp to try and get him to move inward but Varric only chuckled and gripped her tighter.

"Varric, I swear to the Maker..."

Varric spanked her again. The sound of their flesh connecting made a loud crack that startled her more than the impact and she moaned, arching her back until Varric took the hint and repeated the action on the other side. Hawke preferred a spanking to being shot any day and she had to suppress an uncharacteristic giggle at the image of Varric taking her over his knee the next time they argued. Hawke would pick fights with him even more than she already did.

Varric finally touched her core with his tongue and Hawke collapsed with a weak cry. He immediately started tapping out a frantic rhythm as she blocked off his airway and Hawke pushed herself up with an apologetic laugh.

“Sorry. That caught me off guard. Continue.”

Varric had his mouth too full to speak but Hawke could practically hear his sarcastic response anyway. He mouthed at her lips, perhaps saying something after all, but Hawke didn’t care if he was speaking in tongues at the moment because his tongue was working miracles on her. He rolled his tongue around the inside of her folds, dipping into her opening and laving over her clit in a repetitive, dizzying cycle that made her whimper and rock against him in tiny, aborted motions. She’d have bruises on her hips from his fingers as he held her up but she welcomed every single one. Varric licked and sucked her like a juicy peach, slurping noisily until Hawke was almost embarrassed at how wet she was.

Her thighs burned at the stretch and effort of bracing her knees on either side of Varric’s broad shoulders. She was all but clinging to the headboard when he cupped the underside of her ass and probed her with a thumb. He added a second after seeing how easily the first one slipped inside and he carefully pulled at her edges before spearing his tongue as far as he could into her. Hawke shouted and slapped a hand against the wall, curling over to watch him work. His eyes flicked up to hers and she threaded her fingers through his hair, voice completely wrecked as she said his name like she was begging for her life. “ _Varric_.”

He pulled away, face shiny and red, and looked to her as he awaited further instructions.

“Fuck me. Please fuck me,” she whispered, aching to be filled.

Varric didn’t give her any warning as he heaved her up by the back of her thighs and sat up at the same time, unbalancing Hawke so she fell in a sprawl between his legs. She blinked up at him, disoriented by the sudden move more often seen in a brawl or wrestling match. Or Varric’s bed, apparently. He leaned in to kiss her but she stopped him with a hand on his chest, twisting her face away with a laugh.

"Not a chance, dwarf. Not until you wash your face and teeth anyway."

"Sheesh. And I thought sleeping with the boss was supposed to have perks, not make you _more_ bossy," he complained half-heartedly but obliged. He lifted her leg and nipped a kiss to her thigh before ducking beneath it to roll out of bed. He splashed water from the basin on his nightstand onto his face to wash away the slick that coated him from nose to cheeks to chin before scrubbing his skin briskly with a hand towel.

"Whatever gave you that idea? Sleeping with the boss only means I don't feel guilty about extorting you for sexual favors." Hawke stretched out on her side facing him and propped her cheek on her fist as she shamelessly ogled him.

"It's going to make our Wicked Grace games much more interesting, that's for sure."

Hawke snorted. "Just don't let Isabela find out. She'll be incorrigible and insist on hand jobs as the minimum bet."

"And what's the max? Fisting? Can you imagine Broody’s version of fisting?” Varric shuddered.

“I’m thinking more along the lines of drunken, depraved orgies."

"Ah, yeah. Best we keep it between us for now."

Varric finished cleaning his teeth with the edge of the towel and rinsed his mouth with a swish of brandy before joining her on the bed. Hawke wrapped herself around him like an eel, making use of her long arms and legs to pin him down while she nuzzled beneath his chin.

"Better?" he asked when she scattered kisses over his face and neck, and she hummed her approval. Varric’s refractory time was impressive and Hawke was so wet and open that she only had to shift a little and reach back to steady him as she sheathed herself on his dick.

Hawke grabbed fistfuls of Varric's chest hair and held on as she fucked herself on his cock. Her inner walls clamped down on him so tightly on the upstroke that she was practically using her cunt to suck him at the same time, which was probably sexier than it sounded in her head. She let out a soft, involuntary gasp every time she dropped back down and let him fill her to the hilt, so thick she could feel him touching her everywhere. She was already slightly bowlegged, but after tonight she doubted she'd be able to hide the aftereffects of two night's worth of marathon fucking. At least Varric was probably going to be limping after tonight, too.

Her knees dug into the mattress as she rolled her hips in tight, hard circles, grinding her clit against his pelvic bone until her breath came in broken sobs. She'd never been able to come from penetration alone, but she was certain she would come damn close this time. Varric's eyes were tightly closed as he breathed in short bursts through his nose. He looked as if he were doing everything he could not to come, but Hawke hoped he wasn't thinking about dead puppies or dragon shit or something equally as off-putting.

"Look at me, Varric." Hawke's voice was a throaty growl, full of sharp command. Varric's eyes blinked open in surprise and then glazed over when he saw her looking right back him. She slowed down to a shallow back and forth grind, keeping them both right on the edge.

"Maker, you sound like a goddess when you do that," he breathed, awed. "Or a dragon."

"I'm not Flemeth." 

Though, she had to admit the infamous Witch of the Wilds was pretty hot in her own way when she wasn't inducing fear boners. Or, perhaps, especially then. Varric's shoulders relaxed incrementally as a wry grin flashed across his face.

"Maker help us if you were. I think one mage in your family is plenty. Sunshine's terrifying when she's angry."

"Hey. No talking about my sister when you're fucking me. Eyes up here." Hawke bit back a laugh and tried to remain authoritative when Varric's eyes snapped from her bouncing tits back to her face.

"Your--nh--wish is my command, Serrah Hawke," Varric grunted and clutched at the bedding when Hawke intentionally squeezed down around him. "Maferath’s Balls, Hawke. Have mercy."

"I'm sorry, what was that you told me when we were fighting giant spiders and the undead on Sundermount? Something about dwarven constitution and resilience?"

"Most dwarves haven't met you. I'm going to have to reassess everything I ever knew. Thanks a lot."

"Quit complaining. You love this."

"I love you," Varric said without irony, maintaining eye contact and everything.

Hawke slumped forward with a groan and burrowed her forehead against his shoulder. "I hate you."

"No, you don't."

"...No, I don't. Fuck, Varric."

"Yeah."

Hawke clamped her hands down on Varric's outstretched arms, curling her back so they were eye to eye. She couldn't move much in this position and her spine was already complaining about the awkward contortion, but she was in the perfect position to kiss him and hopefully stifle any further confessions of love - from either of them. Hawke spread her knees as wide as they would go and worked her hips in short thrusts, fucking him without design or finesse. She held her open mouth against his and shared damp, heated air back and forth until he groaned and struggled against her hands restraining him.

"Hawke...I can't..."

Hawke was so, so close. She dug her toes into the sheets and tensed up all over as she humped him like it was a race to the finish and she wanted them to finish together. "Don't you dare bitch out on me now," she demanded.

Her voice was filled with so much menace that Varric choked out a strangled laugh and came. Varric's balls slapped against her ass as his hips jerked once, twice, three times before he slumped with a satisfied groan as warmth filled Hawke and dripped out between her thighs. He didn't even have the decency to look guilty. Hawke groaned and slumped on top of him, unfurling her spine so she could smother him with her chest. Her heart was racing fast enough to be of concern, but she didn't have the energy to move while her body tingled with the aftershocks of yet another delayed orgasm.

"I am holding this against you _forever_ ," Hawke vowed.

Varric said something, but it was muffled against her breastbone, which was an interesting sensation.

"I'm sorry, what was that? Too quick on the trigger? Cock up the release? Misfire your bolt?" Varric bit her before Hawke could really get going, which was a shame because she'd been working on some seriously fantastic material. She hissed and pushed back to sit astride his hips so he could suck down air before glowering at her.

“Are you finished?”

“No, I’m not, because a certain dwarf came before I got the chance to, or did I not make myself clear enough?”

“…’Said Hawke sarcastically to the dwarf’.”

“I hate it when you do that.”

"I have to keep notes in my head or else I’ll forget when I go to write it down.”

"Ugh. Don't tell me you're putting this all in a book." Hawke could feel him softening inside her and she rocked against him to chase the last tingles of pleasure before he grimaced and held her still by her hip.

"Fine. I won't tell you." Varric shrugged. He left his hand on her hip and traced leisurely circles into the jut of her hip bone.

"At least give my character big breasts."

"The biggest. 'Her motley band followed Hawke around the city with a wheelbarrow, which she used to tote her enormous bosom'. You know, I wonder if they could be used as battering rams in the second chapter."

"Or to smother smartass dwarves."

"I can't say that's a terrible way to go."

"And you are talking way too much. I believe you owe me _two_ orgasms now.”

“I thought we weren’t keeping tabs.”

“That was before I knew I was becoming a character in your latest porn novel.”

“ _Adult erotica_. I resent the implication that I’m in the same gutter those other hacks who call themselves novelists reside.”

“You mean there’s porn in Darktown? I need to make a point to visit more often.”

“Funny, Hawke. Very funny. Now I believe you mentioned something about orgasms?”

“Two, Varric.”

Hawke was definitely losing her edge because Varric caught her with the same move he used on her earlier, laying her out flat on her back while his hands stroked up and down her body. He made good on his promise – and then some. Hawke lost track of how many orgasms he actually coaxed out of her, but she was a shivering, weak-limbed mess of a human being when he finally let up. She leaned over the edge of the bed to retrieve the purse full of coin she’d stolen from him, hefting it once in her palm with a regretful expression before she lobbed it in his direction.

He fumbled the catch but kept the heavy purse from falling. “What’s this for?”

“A job well done. What else?”

“Now you’re making me feel cheap, Hawke,” Varric said before he reached over her to set the coin purse on the nightstand. “Keep it. I’ll get it all back from you in Wicked Grace eventually.”

“I think I’ve finally learned my lesson about gambling with a bunch of shameless cheaters. I was thinking of going into business with Hubert and investing as a partner in the Bone Pit.”

“I take it back. You obviously can’t be trusted to make rational decisions with money or anything else. Give it here, Hawke.”

“Not a chance.” She laughed and held the bag out of reach until he tackled her and pinned her to the bed. She flipped them both without thinking and yelped when they toppled right over the edge of the bed and crashed into the nightstand. The basin shattered and the wood splintered and buckled beneath their combined weight, which did absolutely nothing to break their fall.

“Fucking _splinters_ ,” Hawke groaned, rolling off the table and Varric to sprawl on her stomach on the floor as she avoided the sharper shards of ceramic from his broken pottery.

“I’ll get the tweezers,” Varric sighed.

“I’ll be right here.” Hawke wrapped her arms around the coin purse, which she managed to maintain a hold on during the tussle, and pillowed it beneath her cheek. She might as well get comfortable with Varric’s floor sooner or later considering the way things were going lately.


End file.
